


Reflections in the Mirror

by AParisianShakespearean



Series: Dreams [13]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Body Worship, Cullenlingus, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mirror Sex, Smut, major smut, mirror kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 13:19:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AParisianShakespearean/pseuds/AParisianShakespearean
Summary: The relationship Lydia had with her body was never constant. Yet with Cullen, she finds herself beautiful.





	Reflections in the Mirror

The relationship Lydia had with her body was never constant. Before others were cruel enough to notice she was slightly rounder than the rest, her body was simply her body. Then came the Circle and the unflattering robes and flat shoes. Children could be cruel with their jibes, crueler still the older they became. As Lydia grew older, as her body grew a bit wider, the fabric did not hide her wide hips, and one of the common jests thrown her way was that it was a shame she had no breasts to go with her hips or arse.

She wanted so badly to be thin, but so badly too did she enjoy eating. Yet when sorrow and melancholy ceased her appetite and made her start to develop that body she had so often wished for, she could not appreciate it. She was sad, all the time, and it was only when she was happy again that she realized the full extent of her depression. She never felt pretty in those days, and especially not beautiful. Mirrors were her enemy until time and purpose made her happy. Still, mirrors still held that window to the past. Sometimes in the mirror she could see that lonely girl.

But she wasn’t lonely then, or was she just happy then. She existed in a cloud of euphoria only gifted when every piece of her life locked together and formed the full puzzle she had spent so long trying to assemble. But truly, she could never be unhappy when the man she loved had his arms around her naked body.

“Look how beautiful you are,” Cullen whispered to her, her back against his front and his lips caressing her ear, the two standing in front of her full body mirror. She had been thinking about the mirror that day, but Cullen somehow must have read her thoughts in that secret way lovers could.

He kissed her temple. “Beautiful, brave woman,” he murmured again, softer this time. She was completely nude, while her lover was still mostly in his armor. If anything however it made it more thrilling, to feel his gloved hands glide across her flesh, the soft leather pleasant and buttery. She felt protected with her back against his front and his arms around her waist. Secure, Sanctuary, and she moaned as his lips grazed her neck and shoulder blades. The steel plate was hard against her back, edges of buckles neither hard nor soft as they pressed into her. Her reflection grinned mischievously as she felt his clothed erection pressed against her wiggling hips. It was delicious to stand there naked in front of the mirror, with the curve of her hips contrasting so with the slimness of his, and his broad shoulders dwarfing her frame. Perhaps her body could not be called “dainty” or “petite,” but next to Cullen she felt elegant and mesmerizing, every inch the beautiful woman he called her.

“Your body should be loved,” he whispered in her ear, even as his gloved finger lightly traced the scar that curved under her breast. She watched him do it through their reflection, watched as he grasped her hips. “Let me love you always.”

"Let me show you something.”

Cullen was intrigued as Lydia turned, beginning the slow removal of every buckle and belt of armor. He helped her, and soon enough he too was bare. The two stood as the Maker first intended, in her room in front of the spilling sun through her balcony, and in front of her mirror. She marveled. Her lover was radiant, time, trails, and hardships beautifully fashioning his body. Shocked she was when they first became lovers, to learn that he himself had never been proud of his body as she had. He hated the scars and the pinkish burn against his chest, just as Lydia once hated the scar underneath her breast. Endless kisses during long nights alleviated those worries. Her body was hers, Cullen’s body was his. They found each other beautiful because they had lived.

His cock was proud and erect, and she had an inkling, an inkling to kneel and take him in her mouth. Temporarily however, she reframed, as his callused palms slid down her body to her hips, grasping the plump flesh. She observed them through the mirror, the long line of Cullen’s naked body pressed so perfectly to hers. They kissed and it tasted like fire and home.

“Let me taste you,” he muttered when they parted. “I want…”

She took a deep breath. “Let me see you.”

She took his hand, he followed her to the bed. He kneeled before her, left warm kisses to her knee and thigh, his strong palms grasping her calves and kneading the sinews. He spread his large palms on her thighs. She parted for him. She saw herself through the mirror as his head dipped down. Saw herself keen and arch against him as he tasted her. Yet it was him she wanted to see, not her. His back was strong and ropey as he remained kneeling before her, offering everything he had. She was flushed rosy and pink, her breasts heaving as she caught a glimpse of amber behind golden lashes. He wrapped his mouth over her clit and ardently lapped, bringing her legs over his back. She came against his mouth, riding it out against his hungry mouth. Greedily he lapped at her cum, kissed her damp inner thighs. They kissed each other, his hands wrapping themselves around her body. Moments together, their hearts beating together, those were moments she cherished above all. Because even when his need and her need was satisfied, he chose to stay.

She drew moans from his parted mouth as her lips glided across his neck. “Come here,” she beckoned, stretching and laying herself atop the bed. On his knees and hands grasping legs and calves, she became drunk at the sight of him, scars here and there across his carved chest, with golden hair against his abdomen leading downward. He was beautiful. Fuck anyone who didn’t think so, or thought he was too scarred or broken. Her Cullen was never broken.

He touched himself and her breath caught. He bit his lip, moaned. The sight was so erotic her own fingers drifted to her clit and twirled around it. They masturbated to the sight of each other, until she outstretched her hands. He sunk to the bed, to that space between her breasts. He kissed her there, his fingers rolling against pert nipples and down to her belly to kiss her there. She was never ashamed of the slight plumpness, the softness there, not with Cullen. Her body was fashioned for no one but her, and in her life she allowed one soul to touch her, to make love to her. She could imagine no other mouth but Cullen’s to paint her body, no other pair of hands to slide and grasp her flesh, and truly she could imagine no one else buried inside her, no one else that could love her body the way he loved her. The day he took her in the grove outside of Skyhold, eyes asking is this alright before he lifted her skirts, she parted her thighs and he slipped inside was the day she was ruined for any other lover. She didn’t care. She wanted it. Wanted…wanted…

He rose to his knees. He was inside her, slow to fully bring himself to the hilt. She slipped her ankle on his shoulder, closed her eyes as he began to move. So often had they done this ritual. Still he was so tender, taking her hand, caressing her.

“Beautiful woman,” he muttered.

“Yours.”

“Only if—”

“Yours.”

“As I am yours.”

She glowed and he beamed, and she turned her head to their reflections in the mirror. She reveled in his beauty as he fucked her, pace gradually growing to a steadier rhythm. Their eyes spoke a thousand words, a thousand I loves yous and a thousand you’re beautifuls. Then she wanted his body to press her into the mattress, wanted him to cover. He understood her silent plea and she was wrapping her arms and legs around him. Nails lightly scratched the back of his neck as a stubbly mouth pressed warmly to her neck and throat. Compelled, she once again turned her head to their reflections. Beautiful he was, beautiful as he moved. The line of his body was long, his legs and back sinewy, with scars along his shoulder blades and middle. His back flexed as he moved. She moved to squeeze his thighs, and other parts. She could feel the smirk against her neck, and there was a sharp clap in the room as her hand affectionally smacked.

He chuckled, and in revenge, his movements stopped. Yet before she could compel him to move his fingers were at her clit, rubbing and making her arousal pool further onto her thighs and sheet bellow. His hand must have been coated, she thought, and when she happened to glance in the mirror again, her suspicions were confirmed.

Cullen moved down to kiss her, kiss her as she came against his fingers. “See how beautiful you are?” he whispered softly, placing another tender kiss.

“No. I only see you.”

“Get on top of me.”

“Cullen, I want…”

“Please love, I want you on top of me.”

It took a moment to adjust, Cullen laying on his back. He helped her straddle him. For a moment all she could see was him, lost with wonder as she was as she slid on his cock, observing and reveling his brows bent in bliss. He moved to grip her hips, moved to meet her thrusts against his cock, and she was in ecstasy. Then Cullen told her to look, look into the mirror.

She saw what he always saw when she rode him, her cheeks flushed and her hair in a wild disarray. She saw their bodies join, and saw how radiant she was in their togetherness, how happy he made her and how much bliss the moment was. She was a lioness, a wildcat. He was right. She was beautiful. She was beautiful, he was beautiful, they were together and it didn’t matter if no one else in the world thought so, because they did. Their souls, made from the same thing…

She soared and she came with him, but she didn’t allow herself to fully leave him as they rode out their mutual tides.

“Cullen,” she whispered, breathless. “You make me feel so beautiful.”

“Now you know how you make me feel.”

She leaned to press their foreheads together. They breathed the same air, and their lips met in not-quite-kisses.

“We were made to be like this together.”

Did he think it true? She wasn’t so sure he agreed. He admitted as much, moving to bring her back to the mattress as he rested his cheek against the crook of her breast. Life fashioned their bodies he said, making them a work of art in their own right. When they joined they were home. And there was beauty in home, beauty in that togetherness.

And Lydia smiled at that, kissing the soft lines on his forehead, thinking of how what she saw in the mirror was proof of that.

Beautiful apart, beautiful together. Two wholes that had a home together. There was nothing more beautiful than that.


End file.
